


avant-garde

by butbythegrace



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butbythegrace/pseuds/butbythegrace
Summary: It’s a work of art from beginning to end.





	avant-garde

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iginita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iginita/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday darling. <3
> 
> Pure pure smut I wrote in a day, please forgive me.
> 
> If you haven’t yet, check out her lovely [royedriza art](https://kotosk.tumblr.com/post/176409690162/a-wild-royedriza-appears) that I clearly couldn't help myself over.

 

 

It’s a work of art from beginning to end.

From the way they draw her into the inner office - Roy at his desk with Ed perched on the edge, looking like something straight from the cover of an illicit romance novel - to the smoothness in which they proposition her - a smirk on Roy’s face and a blush high on Ed’s cheeks - like something out of a dream.

Riza isn’t exactly sure what draws them to her. She’s blonde, Roy’s type – and scary, which is apparently Ed’s – but surely someone like her isn’t so difficult for someone like either of them to come by. From brain to body they’re two of the most extraordinary people she’s ever known, but together they become something even more, something born from tales of the gods. This, of course, may have something to do with her voyeuristic tendencies, but with the color contrast of their exotic features they are truly something special to see. She isn’t so self-deprecating to think of herself as lacking beauty, but there’s a difference between beautiful and ethereal.

She also isn’t so foolish as to refuse them. It isn’t as if it will ruin things between her and Roy – they occasionally slept together ages ago and it never touched their dynamic outside of the bedroom. There’s even less to ruin with Ed. He’s a legal adult and hasn’t been part of the military, let alone their team, for years. Truthfully, there really isn’t much that would keep her from seeing them together, let alone being _with_ them.

She’s trusted them with her life. She can trust them with this. And, she likes to think, the same is why they come to her instead of seeking a stranger.

She finds herself at Roy’s doorstep on the evening they all agreed upon, wearing a button down and skirt that accentuate the curves typically kept hidden underneath the state’s uniform. Roy kisses her hand – ever the dramatic charmer – and brings her to the great room, where Ed is seated on the couch and looks to already be a drink or two in, his cheeks flushed, his smile easy. She and Roy bracket him, their thighs pressed to both of his, and the contact makes him blush even more.

Riza knows Roy, really _knows_ him, and she takes this time to know Ed, too. They talk about his trip to Creta, about Al, about Hayate and the team and they pace their drinks until the conversation is effortless and flowing, the touches a little more than just fleeting.

The alcohol makes them brave. Ed brushes rare strands of escaped hair over her ear, his hand trailing down her cheek. Riza runs her fingers over his collarbone and wonders at the notches there, and Ed unbuttons his shirt to show her the bolts that still remain under his skin. She gently pushes the shirt down his arms and traces the swathe of scar tissue around his right arm. He has a misshapen slice out of his abdomen, too, the same as Roy. It’s soothing, in a way, that they all have scars.

Roy, not one to be left aside, slides a hand up Ed’s leg and when Ed turns, Roy kisses him, sweet and deep, and Riza wishes she was so talented as to be able to create a likeness of this by hand, or at least brave enough to have brought a camera. With these two the exhibitionists they are she doubts they would have said no.

When they break away, Ed immediately turns to her, his wide, curious eyes landing on her lips. Almost shyly, he leans in, and she meets him halfway. He may look shy but he doesn’t kiss like it at all, and he’s sneaky too, or maybe she’s just a little more tipsy than she thought, because suddenly her shirt is unbuttoned, Ed tracing the lacy cup of her lingerie as if he’s never seen anything like it in his life, and for the first time she wonders if she will be the first woman he’s slept with.

Her worries flee, forgotten when Roy lays a hand on each of their shoulders, Ed’s bare, his shirt already lost. He wisely suggests they make their way to the bedroom, and Riza doesn’t miss the delighted gleam in his eyes.

The lights are low and warm and Roy’s bed big and familiar, plush down comforter already thrown to the floor and dark sateen sheets cool on Riza's bare legs. She’s content there, to sit back and watch, and Roy knows her particular erotic preferences so he lets her, his focus solely on Ed and creating with him an exquisite scene just for her. His hand moves to cradle Ed’s jaw, the other stroking down Ed’s naked belly to press between his legs. Muffled little whimpers and whines escape Ed’s lips between kisses, and he grinds his hips into Roy’s palm.

Ed glances over every so often to see if Riza is enjoying herself, and she finds this painfully sweet. He fumbles Roy’s belt buckle open and dips his hand inside, and Roy tucks his face into Ed’s neck and groans low at the contact. They’ve barely touched one another, haven’t touched her at all, but Riza is well aware of how damp her panties already are. She manages to slide them off from under her skirt without the two noticing.

Their hands continue to wander, full of worship and wonder, as if this is something they can do a million times and then some but memory alone will never justly serve. They undress one another with slow, painstaking attentiveness, hot mouths placed to every bared stretch of body as they gradually reveal an array of sculpted muscle and stunningly scarred skin and cocks that are hard and flushed. When Roy drops a hand to wrap about them both and _strokes_ , Riza’s breath hitches, and she realizes just how heavy her breathing as become.

She _squirms_.

A wonderfully naked Roy directs an equally wonderfully naked Ed onto the bed and on his belly, where he pillows his head on his arms in wait while Roy locates what she assumes to be lube in the bedside drawer. Riza closes their self-imposed distance to settle next to Ed with crossed legs. Being bare beneath her skirt certainly gives him a view and his bright eyes widen when he catches it, looking up at her in wonder, but before he can say anything Roy’s slickened fingers find him and start to work him open.

Ed makes the most incredible noises, hitched breaths and desperate pants and the most delicious little whines, his breath hot on her knee. Riza gently, soothingly combs her fingers through his bangs and Roy gives her a coy smile. He knows just when to add more lube and more fingers, when to speed up and slow down, all to get _just_ the reaction he’s looking for. As if reading her mind, he smirks, and then Ed arches high off the bed with a shout, all taut muscle and desert toned skin. Riza trails a hand down his bowed spine and thinks it would take nothing more than varying shades of gold to paint his portrait.

When Ed is taking three fingers with ease – and yes, she’s counted them – Roy flips him and slings Ed’s flesh leg up over his shoulder. Riza is fascinated by the automail she has never fully seen before, and Ed digs that metal heel into the bed and wiggles to spread his legs further apart, his ponytail loose, hair a silken halo around his head.

Roy gives himself a liberal stroke of lube - Riza's lips part on a heavy exhale - and after a few teasing, nudging strokes at Ed’s entrance, he begins to press inside. Ed throws his head back and keens, breaking into a litany of “fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck”_ as Roy continues to push into him inch by agonizing inch. His hands fist in the sheets, jaw clenched and hairline damp with sweat, and watching him take Roy’s cock is quite possibly the most incredible thing Riza has seen in her entire life.

Once fully sheathed, Roy stills to give Ed time to adjust. He whimpers at the shift of Roy’s hips as Roy leans over, taking Riza’s hand and pressing it between his own and the solid expanse of Ed’s chest. Together they slide their palms down the younger man’s trembling body to caress just around the territory of his cock, teasing him back into relaxation and a need so strong he starts to beg for it between curses.

Riza sits back to watch and they start to fuck, slow, slow, and sweet, Ed’s legs locked around Roy’s hips, Roy bowed over him to whisper “you’re beautiful, you’re wonderful, you’re so so _good”_ while Ed whines and his dick drips steadily onto his belly.

She’s struck again by the color contrast that drew her interest to them in the first place – like stars on a night sky, or an eclipse of the sun – and the scene makes her _ache_. She has to draw back again, further away from them because if any one part of them touches her it may be just enough to set her off.

When both men are shaking and gritting their teeth, Ed taps Roy’s leg and Roy pulls out of him completely. Ed is left lying in a passionate daze, their sudden parting clearly an attempt to bring him back from the edge, like he’s so so close he can’t even move for fear of cresting that wave. Riza can sympathize.

Roy has a clearer head and leaves Ed to gather himself while he turns his attention to Riza. He knows she’s already on edge too so he’s careful, soft little touches and whispers as he removes the rest of her clothes and brings her to sit at the edge of the bed. He murmurs something to Ed that she can’t quite hear over the pounding of her own heart and the heat of arousal swirling in her blood. She hadn’t asked too many questions when they invited her here and wasn’t sure exactly where they planned to fit her into this equation, but as their plan comes to light, her soul threatens to leave her body.

Ed composes himself enough to find his footing and rise, though he still looks thoroughly debauched, blushing from his cheeks to his chest and lube dripping down his thighs as he slots himself between her legs and pushes her knees up. She follows his lead, her back hitting the mattress as her legs raise and fall open, and Ed’s elbows hook her knees to easily pull her to the very edge of the bed.

His eyes roam her body, and with the way his hands intermittently squeeze her thighs she can tell he so badly wants to touch. Perhaps Roy’s earlier murmuring had been a warning though because he wisely doesn’t, just as she wants to trace the boundaries of his groin with her fingers, cup his balls, wrap a hand around his still dripping cock, but knows it would all be too great a risk to set him off.

She settles easily for his hungry eyes and hopes that he can see the same in her.

Roy passes him a condom, and after it’s rolled in place, the lube. She’s already so wet it isn’t at all needed, but there’s not a chance in the world she’s going to deny watching Ed touch himself. She thinks he knows this because he gives his dick a few more strokes than necessary, drawing it out and shuddering in his own hold. She bites her lip at the sight and doesn’t dare close her eyes.

The feeling of Ed pushing into her with one long, slow thrust is heightened as Roy slides back into him in the same breath. And _god_ , the _sound_ Ed makes, wounded but utterly desperate and as tantalizing as any siren’s song could be.

Ed gasps and chokes when he and Roy simultaneously bottom out. Riza reaches up to brush his hair behind his ear, just as he’d done for her, and Roy’s hands stroke down his trembling shoulders as he murmurs soothing words into his ear. Riza can’t imagine how the dual stimulation must feel. She’s overwhelmed as it is, and for Ed is must be absolutely maddening. They patiently wait for him to breathe and settle.

Ed, impaled and thoroughly trapped between them, is the first to rock his hips. He gasps and bows his head at the feel, clutching the bed sheets in his fists like he’s holding on for dear life, and maybe he is. Roy watches over Ed’s shoulder while Riza delicately untangles his fingers and settles his palms at the bottom of her ribcage. Ed needs no further permission and runs his hands down her body and over her hips and other curves, then back up to cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. She can’t help but notice his left hand is rougher than the right.

She moans and twists her hips and _wants,_ but Roy gives Ed another warning and his hands draw back to her thighs. It leaves her partly frustrated and partly never wanting this to end. She has no idea how they’re meant to last long like this.

Then Roy starts to move, and any hope that they might abandons them all.

The room is filled with their unabashed cries and sweaty skin on skin. She can easily grab Ed’s magnificently pert ass, and with a little more effort and proper timing she can reach Roy’s, too, and with even _better_ timing she can feel just where the two men join together. She has to be careful doing this because it seems to have the same effect on Ed as it does on her. They both gasp and rock and grind and _shudder_ , and Roy, always a master of control, amusedly moves her hand to the more neutral zone of Ed’s abs, the ridges of which she takes in just as greedily as everything else they’ve offered her.

Roy wraps a hand in Ed’s hair and yanks his head back, exposing a column of beautiful bare throat, then starts to fuck him with an aggressive precision, sharp snaps of his hips that drive Ed into Riza again and again and again, and she feels Ed’s cock answer every brush of Roy’s against his prostate. Ed is an absolute mess, sweating and shaking and nearly sobbing with each push and drag, and she has no idea how he’s still standing. There isn’t a thing in the world that could make her legs do anything other than hang uselessly in the angle of his elbows.

She finds it even harder to believe he’s coherent enough to follow direction, but all it takes is a firmer hand in his hair and a little bit of praise to get him hooked on every command Roy gives. He directs Ed on just how to touch her, just what to do to elicit gasps and shivers and bring her to the edge and keep her there as long as they please. As he pushes them higher and higher, twists their movements with sultry words dripping with intent and pleasure, Riza realizes it is she and Edward who are the subjects of this work, and Roy a literal fucking artist.

When their combined efforts finally push her over the edge – as Ed shouts when he follows and Roy is, satisfyingly, helplessly drug down with them both – she commits everything within her to remember every detail of this masterpiece.

 

 

As she later comes to find – evident in each succeeding invitation and their increasing creativity – she isn’t the only one who believes every masterpiece should continue to inspire new works of art.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tw](https://twitter.com/butbythegrace1) | [tu](https://butbythegrace.tumblr.com)


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